Yours Sincerely
by Samuraiko
Summary: A humble tutor. A wandering Knight. After a chance encounter one dark and stormy night at Maria Vetsera Church, a most unlikely friendship begins with an exchange of letters. Set between the Prologue and Chapter One of A NOBLE SOUL.


_Author's Note - This little story was percolating in the back of my head for a while, and finally decided to make a full appearance. For more on Heine and TaraLeila, do take a look at_ A Noble Soul _._

* * *

 **YOURS SINCERELY**

With a quiet sigh, Heine Wittgenstein entered Maria Vetsera Church, dusting snow from his head and shoulders, then he turned to close and lock the heavy church doors for the night. Removing his scarf, hat, and coat, he headed up the right side aisle toward his room, not bothering with a candle. Even in near total darkness, he was intimately familiar with the interior of the church, and the faint moonlight spilling in through the stained glass windows was more than enough illumination for him.

For a moment, he paused beside one of the wooden wall beams, and reached up to lightly run his fingers over a gouge in the wood.

 _Has it really been two months already_ , he mused silently.

 _Gunshot in the semi-darkness._  
 _The flash of swords._  
 _Pale blue eyes and a gentle, sad smile._

"TaraLeila," he murmured softly.

He continued on to his room, where he hung his hat, scarf, and coat on wall hooks, then lit a candle on his desk, sat down, and pulled paper, inkpot, and a fountain pen to him. Idly nibbling on the end of the pen, he thought for a little while, then began to write.

 _16 December 1878_

 _Dear TaraLeila,_

 _I hope that this note finds you in good health and good spirits. I wonder where you are now, as I think of you often since that night we first met-_

He stopped and scowled down at the page, then he wadded up the paper and threw it into the wastebasket. Grabbing a clean piece of paper, he began again.

 _16 December 1878_

 _To Dame TaraLeila MacIntyre, Knight of the Rose and Cross, greetings -_

 _I hope that this note finds you in good health and good spirits. The children and I want to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. May 1879 bring you much joy._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Professor Heine Wittgenstein_

He paused for a moment and wondered fleetingly if it was perhaps _too_ impersonal. _No. Better to keep things polite._

* * *

"Wandering TaraLeila."

TaraLeila MacIntyre turned and looked over her shoulder at the initiate who was hurriedly coming down the hall of the Monastery of St. Brigid.

"Aye?"

"You've a letter, ma'am," the initiate replied, handing her an envelope before bowing and quickly heading to her next delivery.

"Thank ye," TaraLeila called out after her, then she leaned against the wall, opened the envelope, and drew out a sheet of paper. She promptly frowned as she stared at the writing. _'Tis a letter to me, aye, I can read my own name, but the rest is beyond my ken._ Tapping the envelope thoughtfully against her thigh, she turned on her heel and made her way to the chapterhouse's library.

It took a few minutes of making her way up and down the aisles and peering into the alcoves, but she eventually found the knight she was looking for.

"I'm sorry for disturbin' ye," she greeted him quietly in Madrian as she stopped beside his desk. "But I was hopin' ye might be able to help me."

Inigo Montoya y Soldano del Castillo looked up from his books and gave her a warm smile. "Of course, my friend. How may I help?"

TaraLeila held out the letter she'd received. "I've received a letter, but I'm no' sure what it says. So I'm guessin' 'tis no' from a fellow knight, as they know I only read Avalonian."

Inigo glanced at it and nodded. "Indeed - it's written in Eise." As he translated the letter for her, TaraLeila's eyes lit up.

"Aye, I remember now. The professor from Granzreich." She smiled wistfully. "'Twas very kind of him to think of me at Yuletide. I do hope he and the wee ones are well."

"Write back to him and ask," Inigo remarked matter-of-factly, and she gave a rueful laugh.

"I can no' write in Eise."

"Then write your letter in Avalonian, and I'll translate it for you into Eise," the other knight suggested. "This way, if your professor is literate in Avalonian, he'll know to write to you that way henceforth. If not, at least he'll understand your difficulty."

"Ye don't mind?" she asked, twisting her hair around her fingers, and Inigo smiled and shook his head.

"Of course not. Write your letter and bring it back to me."

Taking a seat at a nearby table, TaraLeila collected writing materials, then began to write, when she suddenly paused for a moment and stood up abruptly, leaving the letter on the table.

"Actually... would ye mind helpin' me with somethin' else first?"

* * *

"Herr Wittgenstein," Heine heard, and he looked up from his afternoon prayers to see Father Tomas Widrich, the parish priest assigned to Maria Vetsera, standing in the doorway of the classroom.

"Father Widrich, I apologize, I did not realize you were coming today," Heine said, hastily getting to his feet, but the priest waved him back to his chair.

"Not at all, not at all. I was asked to deliver this here to the church, and any excuse to see the children is a welcome one." He handed Heine a carefully wrapped package. "All the way from the Highland Marches, too! I'll leave you to it, and see to the children outside."

 _The Marches-_ Heine's breath caught in his throat, and he barely noticed the priest's departure as he carefully unwrapped the package to find a well-worn book with a beautifully illustrated cover.

"'A Treasury of Fairy Tales,'" he read aloud, then it dawned on him that the book was written in Eise. Opening it, he found a folded sheet of paper just inside, and read:

 _23 December 1878_

 _Dear Professor Wittgenstein,_

 _I am indeed well, and busy as ever in service to the Knights. Still, I am fortunate that your letter found me in Kirkwall when it did - I'm off again just after the New Year on assignment! I do hope that you and the bairns are healthy and happy. May Providence continue to shine upon you for your devotion and genorosity of spirit, and the New Year be a prosperous one for us all. Please accept this gift for you and the little ones... and my gratitude to you and the children for thinking of me at Yuletide._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _TaraLeila MacIntyre_

Heine then realized that the letter had been written first in Avalonian, and then in a different handwriting just below it in Eise. Under that, in the same writing as the second note, was the following:

 _(As TaraLeila can only read and write in Avalonian, she asked for assistance in translating her letter to you.)_

 _Oops_ , Heine thought with a rueful smile. _I never even considered that, considering how well she speaks Eise_. He lightly brushed his fingers along the page, still smiling to himself. _I'll remember that for my next letter, though._


End file.
